Where Do We Go Now
by Relised
Summary: Mickey had done a lot of things to hurt Ian. And it was for Ian's own good, too. It only makes sense that the one thing out of Mickey's control might finally drive them apart.


Where Do We Go Now?

* * *

Mickey had done a lot of things to hurt Ian Gallagher. And he'd admit that most of them had been on purpose. It was for his own good. Or at least that's what Mickey repeatedly told himself when the red head looked at him with those dead eyes.

It all started with Mandy. She'd had to go and make up some bull about how Ian had tried to rape her, and no one hurt his little sister. And Mickey and his cousins had been relentless for over a week, tracking down Ian's every move and threatening to kill him every chance they had.

And even after Mandy had told Mickey there was a misunderstanding and to knock it off, he still tried to make Ian's life a living hell every way possible, even if that meant tormenting that Arab storekeeper he worked for. And so that's why Mickey stole the gun. Looking back on it now, if he'd have known that taking that God damn gun from that piece of shit store would have led to such a fucked relationship with Ian, he'd have let it go.

Mickey had had ever intention to smash Ian's head in when the boy had came in his room with a tire iron. He'd had him straddled and everything, his arm ready to swing. And maybe it was because they were both hard, the breath coming out in gasps. But the next thing Mickey knew, they were both taking their clothes off and Ian was riding him and it was the best moment of Mickey's life. It ended quickly when his dad walked in to piss. And happy Mickey had to be Jackass Mickey once again.

"Kiss me and I'll cut your fucking tongue out," He mumbled, rubbing at his lower lip as Ian's face fell. The red head shrugged, pulling on his clothes and scooping up the gun. This was a one-time thing. A one-time thing, Mickey told himself.

That didn't stop Mickey from frequenting the store, waiting for it to clear out so he could fuck Ian in the back room. He always made some rude comment as he left, but it never seemed to phase the boy much to Mickey's dismay. That's why he shouldn't have been surprised when Ian came running to him when all hell broke loose.

"What the fuck?" Mickey exclaimed as he swung the door open, Ian looking even paler than normal.

"I need to see you," Ian whimpered, and even Mickey could tell he was on the verge of breaking down.

"Not a good time," Mickey mumbled, his cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Someone yelled from inside the house and Mickey glanced behind him with a worried look.

"I-I-I don't know where else to go," Ian whispered and Mickey sighed.

"I thought you were working today?"

"Linda's going to have my ass. I'm supposed to be there now," Ian said giving a couple gasping breaths.

"I'll meet you there in twenty," Mickey said, slamming the door in Ian's face. He kicked himself the entire way to the store. Why would he give in so easily? He threw open the store door, locking it behind him as he flipped the sign. "Back room. Now."

Ian let out a shaky laugh, throwing his apron down on the counter. Mickey led the way, listening his belt as he went.

"What the fuck was so important that you had to show up at my house?" Mickey grumbled, bracing his hands on the shelf.

"M-Monica showed up. My bi-polar piece of shit of a mother. She wasn't to take Liam. She just took off and now she's back and…I just can't do it."

"Just get on me, Firecrotch," Mickey grumbled and he didn't say anything when Ian wrapped his hands around Mickey's own. And it was Mickey's fault that he didn't hear Kash coming, screaming for Ian about something Linda being knocked up.

"What the fuck," he mumbled, pushing Ian off of him, pulling up his pants and shoving Kash on his way out. He should have been done. That should have been it. Mickey should have been done, but no. He's a dumbass and couldn't stay away.

He went back later that night once the sun had gone down. He entered the store slowly, looking around to see if anyone else was there. Kash was stocking shelves in front of him and he rubbed at his lower lip.

"Fucking right you keep your mouth shut," he mumbled, grabbing a Snickers bar off the counter. "Better keep it shut." He watched as Kash walked around the counter. "You hear me?"

"Put the candy back, Mickey," Kash said quietly.

"Mmmm, that's sweet," Mickey mumbled, taking a bite of the candy bar with a smirk on his face. "I like 'em sweet. But then, uh, so do you, huh?"

"I said put it back." Kash pulled the gun out from under the counter and aimed it at Mickey. "Now." He pulled the trigger, the bullet shattering a jar of pasta sauce. Mickey flinched, turning around with wide eyes.

"Fuck," he gasped as Kash pulled the trigger again.

"Kash what are you doing?" Ian said, his eyes wide.

"It's a fucking Snickers bar!" Mickey yelled, and Kash pulled the trigger again. The bullet entered Mickey's thigh and he dropped to the ground, his hands grasping his leg.

"Holly shit!" Ian yelled, looking back and forth between Mickey and Kash.

"Jesus Chr-" Mickey moaned, grabbing his leg as Ian dropped to the ground next to him. "Fuck," Mickey moaned as Ian pressed one hand into his bullet wound and the other grabbed his leg.

"Hey, hey. Look at me, look at me," Ian said, trying to keep Mickey's attention.

"You fucking suck!" Mickey yelled at Kash as he pulled his phone out to call 911.

"You're going to be okay," Ian whispered, pulling Mickey's attention away from Kash. "It's okay."

"Gallagher, get the fuck out of here," Mickey gasped, trying to push Ian's hand away from his leg.

"I don't want to leave you," Ian whispered, glancing back at Kash as if he was afraid Kash would try to finish Mickey off. "This is my fault."

"No, it's not. Now get the fuck out of here before the cops get here," Mickey pushed at Ian again and red head fell slightly before nodding.

"It's going to be okay," he whispered before running out the door.

Of course that wasn't the last time Mickey saw him. He could hope it was but no.

"Milkovich, you got a visitor," the guard called and he groaned as he grabbed his crutches and hobbled to the doorway. He sighed heavily when he saw Ian sat behind the glass. He sighed again, lowering himself into his chair and nodding at the phone. Ian licked his lips and picked up his phone also.

"Thanks for putting money in my commissary account. Was running low on smokes," Mickey said quietly.

"Not me," Ian said with a grin. "Kash. I told him you might still press charges." Mickey had to smother the grin as he searched Ian's face.

"Thanks," he said with a small nod.

"How long?" Ian asked.

"I dunno," Mickey said, pulling the phone up closer to his lips. "It's supposed to a year, right? Maybe only a couple months if I don't do anything stupid."

"Like what?" Ian asked, his lower jaw protruding.

"Like stab that fat fucking mick who keeps trying to steal my Jello!" Mickey yelled, leaning back to look down the line.

"Who me?" someone down the way called

"Yeah!"

"Fuck you!" the guy called as Mickey shook his head. Ian watched him for a while, his mouth moving soundlessly. Finally he pulled the phone closer.

"I-I miss you," Ian stuttered. Mickey stared at him, a look of disgust on his face.

"You say that again and I'll rip your tongue otta your head," He sneered. But instead of looking scared, Ian smirked. Mickey had to look away to keep the smile off his face. Ian reached a hand out and placed fingers on the glass.

"Take your hands off the glass," Mickey sneered.

"Oh," Ian said, pulling his hand back with a smirk. Mickey was fucked.

* * *

Mickey wasn't surprised to see Ian with his sister the day he got out. And he was happy to see him, too. He just had to hide that from his sister and Ian. He made some comment to Mandy about her cup size and tried to seem normal. He even shoved Ian's arm off of him as they walked away. But that didn't stop Ian from mumbled in his ear to meet him at the dugout that night.

The red head rambled on about the summer classes he was taking and how he wanted to get into West Point and all kinds of things that Mickey didn't really care about.

"So did you make any friend on the inside?" Ian mumbled, trying to meet Mickey's eyes.

"Do you want to chit chat, or do you want to get on me?" Mickey asked, and he hated the smirk on Ian's face as he turned to face the field. He wanted to say something mean. Something to scare Ian off. But at this point, Mickey knew nothing was going to chase him off.

They continued their little escapades throughout the summer and into the school year. Linda had agreed to give Mickey a job (on a trial basis), which gave them the opportunity of fucking in the back room every day. And although he hated to admit it, things were working out for them. Until it wasn't, of course.

They locked the front door every time, using the back in 15 minute sign. They'd never had a problem before. Until one day, Frank came in the back door.

"The front door was locked, so I came in the back. No pun intended," he said into the freezer door and Mickey froze, his heart beating out of his chest. He glanced at Ian, whose eyes were bulging out of his head.

"If my dad finds out about this, he will kill me himself," Mickey growled, pacing in front of Ian. He was barely aware of Ian making some comment about Frank not caring and that he wouldn't tell anyone. Instead Mickey pushed Ian out of his way. "Stay here. I'll take care of it."

And he tried. Mickey searched everywhere. He went to the Gallagher's, to Shelia's, the Alibi Room, under the El, and everywhere else he could think of. And Frank was nowhere to be found. He went back to the Kash and Grab, ducking under the garage door at the back. Ian sat on a milk crate in the back, smoking a cigarette.

"Where is he?" Mickey growled and Ian sighed as he stubbed out his cigarette.

"I have no idea."

"He's had 24 hours to run his mouth already. Where is he?"

"He won't," Ian said, standing up.

"If my dad finds out about this he will kill me himself. I've been to 16 bars, the homeless shelter, shanty town under the El, your house, batty Shelia's. Where the fuck is he?" Mickey yelled, grabbing Ian's arm to stop him from walking away.

"I. Don't. Know." Ian said between clichéd teeth.

"Bullshit!" he let out a pained chuckle, searching Ian's face. "You warned him," Mickey said, and he couldn't keep the betrayal out of his voice.

"I hate him more than you do," Ian yelled as Mickey rounded the counter.

"I ain't stealing this. This is less than what I'm owed for my hours this week," Mickey said as he pulled money out of the cash register. "I'm done. Done, done" he said, pointing at the store then Ian.

"Frank's walked in on Fiona and all her boyfriends; Lip and his girls. We've got nothing to be ashamed of." Ian pleaded as Mickey walked towards the door. Mickey stopped and turned to look at him.

"What fucking world do you live in?" Mickey sneered, getting up in Ian's face.

"You can't. You can't. You kn-I don't want you to," Ian stuttered, and Mickey hated how he sounded like he was going to cry.

"What did I just say to you? Done is done. What do you think we're boyfriend and girlfriend here? You're nothing but a warm mouth to me. Sorry I gotta go kill your dad, but I'm doing a lot of people a favor. Including you." And with that Mickey stormed out of the store. As soon as he rounded the corner, he leaned against the wall of the alley, gasping for breath. He hadn't meant any of what he had said to Ian. None of it. But if his dad did find out about it, they would both be dead. No questioning it. So when Mickey punched a cop in the face the next night, he only thought of how he'd be safe on the inside. And if his dad had killed Ian by the time he got out, well, that wasn't his responsibility.

* * *

"Hey! What's going on under there?" Mickey yelled, climbing under the bleachers.

"Oh fuck," Ian mumbled, pulling his pants up. The kid under him scurried to find his pants. "I told you you were too loud."

"I can't get expelled. My parents will kill me."

"Probably hearing about the gay sex will kill them faster," Ian said, pulling his shirt on.

"Lookie what we got here," Mickey said, swinging under the bleachers. Ian froze, his arm half in his shirt.

"Mickey?" he asked, slowly pulling his shirt down.

"I thought you were still in Juvie?" the kid that Ian honestly couldn't remember the name of said.

"Not anymore," Mickey said before kicking the kid in the balls. The kid moaned, dropping to the ground. "You having some kind of queer-bo sex under here?" he asked, kicking again.

Ian tried not to laugh, straightening his posture and turning away.

"No! No! I swear!" the kid moaned as Mickey kicked him again. "Why are you still beating me up? He was doing it too!"

"You were the one taking it in the ass, right? Well you're the one I've got to kick straight." Ian snorted, looking away. "It working?"

"Yes! Yes!"

"Good," Mickey said, pushing the kid away from him. "Now get the hell out of here." Mickey kicked his ass one last time for good measure as he ran away. He turned to Ian, looking him up and down. "You got any fuck left in you, or did you dump it all in that faggot's ass?" Ian grinned, jumping the bleachers and reaching for his belt.

"Man that was good," Mickey mumbled, pulling a cigarette out of the pack. "Missed ya."

"You did?" Ian asked, and Mickey picked up on the surprise in the boy's voice.

"Yeah man," Mickey mumbled as he lit his cigarette. "I have to do all the fucking in Juvie. Otherwise I'd end up someone's bitch, right? Nice to switch back," he said as he handed off his smoke to Ian. He could feel the boy tense up next to him.

"I thought you had four more months." Ian said, and Mickey could feel Ian staring at him.

"Yeah, they let me out for overcrowding or some shit."

"Coming back to school?" Ian asked as Mickey leaned over to spit.

"No, man. I'd still be a fucking freshmen. I haven't done a single class."

"Why'd you come back then?" Ian asked, his brow furrowed. Mickey mumbled something about collecting on some coke he'd sold and Ian sighed as he looked away. Mickey knew what the boy was thinking: Nothing but a warm mouth, right? But Mickey knew Ian would take him back. He always did.

* * *

In hindsight, Mickey knew he deserved it. He'd been bragging about fucking kids on the inside, and then he had to go and fuck Angie while Ian was standing outside. He hadn't missed the confused look on the red head's face as he climbed the stairs to Angie's house.

"Now see, I thought you two were…." Lip trailed off.

"Shut up!" Ian said, and Mickey flinched, knowing he'd fucked up. Ian was pissy with him for the rest of the week.

"Hey, did you really fuck Angie Zago today?" Ian asked, not looking at Mickey's face.

"Yeah I fucked Angie. Everyone fucks Angie." And Mickey didn't stop there. He made some smart ass remarks about Ian going down on him and asking if Ian fucked Angie. He continued to sell drugs in the store, even while Ian glared at him. But when the grey fox came in the store and started hitting on Ian, he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"You guys picnic together? You got a little dog with a fucking sweater?" He asked, taking in Ian's stiff posture. Ian reclined back in his chair, meeting Mickey's face.

"Nah, we don't picnic. We mostly just fuck. Like you and Angie." It took everything Mickey had not to jump the counter and knock that smug look off Ian's face.

So yeah, he followed Ian. So sue him. And yeah, he got super drunk while watching Ian and that old fucker. But when the old man made some comment about Ian bringing his boyfriend (Mickey) back to his place and "more the merrier," Mickey snapped. It didn't take much to bring the old man down, and he just kept kicking like he'd done with the kid under the bleachers.

"Jesus, Mickey!" Ian yelled, glancing behind them as a crowd started to grow.

"What the fuck did you call me, faggot?" Mickey yelled, kicking the old guy again. He never saw Ian's hand shoot out, landing a perfect clothes line right to his wind pipe. Mickey fell back, grabbing his throat.

"What the fuck, Gallgher?"

"Mickey, they're going to call the cops," Ian yelled, pushing Mickey to run away. He stooped down in front of the man who was clutching his chest. "Are you okay?"

"Come on!" Mickey yelled, knowing Ian would come with him.

"I'll text you!" Ian yelled out as Mickey yelled "Gallagher."

They took off running down the street, cutting into some back ally before they both had to stop, hands on their knees while they panted.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" Ian yelled, and for a second Mickey saw a flash of real anger cross the red heads face. But then they were laughing, wrestling with each other as they continued to run away. That would show that old cock sucker who was the best for Ian Gallagher.

"You want in?" Ian asked, and just to fuck with him, Mickey aimed at the pavement next to where Ian was crawling under some piece of metal. He knew his aim; he knew he wouldn't hit him. That didn't stop Ian from yelling at him, though. "Jesus! Use blanks, maybe?"

"Bring my cousins?" Mickey asked, taking a puff of his cigarette.

"Yeah," Ian said, jogging to the end of the make shift obstacle course.

"Alright, I'm in." Mickey said. "I don't know what you see in the geriatric viagroid."

"He buys me stuff," Ian said, standing in front of Mickey. "Orders me room service." Mickey pulled the trigger one more time, shooting above Ian's head. "He isn't afraid to kiss me."

And what Mickey hated about that was that Ian was baiting him. The longer they did this, and fuck it had been almost two years, the braver Ian got. The more the red head expected from Mickey and the less brave Mickey felt. And that's why when Ian said no guns when they went to rob the old man's house, Mickey listened. Because that's what Ian wanted and lately Mickey was all about giving Ian what he wanted.

Mickey started to follow his cousin and his brother into the house and then he stopped, running back to the van. He jumped in the back, one hand on the back of Ian's chair and the other on Ian's leg. And Mickey kissed him. Mickey kissed Ian Gallagher, which was shit, 'cause Mickey didn't kiss people. But he stayed where he was, not trying to deepen the kiss too much. He knew Ian's eyes were open, staring at him in surprise. He pulled away without saying anything, running back into the house. He flipped Ian the bird as he ran.

It was the best high Mickey had ever had as he continued to pull sit out of the house. And maybe that's why he'd stupidly thought they'd be able to steal a grandfather clock. And then there was some drunk old woman with a sleep mask pulled over her head coming at them with a shot gun and Mickey could feel the bullet enter his ass and oh god was he going to kill Gallagher when this was all said and done.

"Just drive, drive, drive!' he yelled, as he leaned over the front seat, his ass in the air.

"Mickey you got shot!" Ian yelled, putting the van in gear and if Mickey could have he would have strangled the smart ass.

"Yes I know I got shot. Now drive!" And of course the only doctor they had at their disposal had to be the old son of a bitch that Mickey had kicked the shit out of downtown. And he was highly aware that the Gallagher's house was full of little kids and he was pretty sure he saw his half-sister that his dad had brought home once as Ian and his cousin had carried him inside. He couldn't help the strand of profanities that escaped his mouth as the guy dug into his ass, pulling the bullet out. He could feel Ian next to him and it took everything Mickey had not to reach out and grab him.

"Almost done, Mickey," Ian mumbled quietly as Lloyd slapped his ass. And that's about the time all hell went lose.

"What the fuck?" Fiona yelled from the door, and Ian turned around, holding a lamp.

"I can explain this," he said quietly, but Fiona was looking past them.

"And who the hell are you?" she asked some girl standing in the middle of the living room.

"I'm Brittany Sturgess. With Child Protective Services." Everyone froze, their eye locked on the girl. But Mickey couldn't take his eyes off Ian who had gone even more pale than normal. Of course that's about the time that Debbie came in bragging about drowning some slut at the pool. Had the situation been different, Mickey would have been proud of little red. Now, though, he knew there was no way those kids were staying in that house.

"It'll be okay," Mickey mumbled as he passed close to Ian as everyone filed out of the house. Ian looked numb, nodding his head as he joined the rest of the family to learn their fate.

* * *

Mickey was surprised when Ian showed up to work two days later.

"Proof of employment came through," he said with a shrug to Mickey's questioning look.

"Where they got you?" Mickey asked, helping stock shelves.

"Level 14 Home on Robinson," he mumbled, and Mickey raised a brow at him.

"Isn't that for the real fucked up kids? Like set their own house on fire shit? What the fuck are you doing there?" Ian shrugged, continuing his work.

"Listen, my dad took my brother's on a run out of state. They'll be gone for a couple days if you want to ditch that hell hole and stay with me, you can."

And that's where everything did go downhill. Out of all the shit they'd been through, Mickey never thought it'd end like this. He'd gotten reckless and over confident. Fuck, he'd even gotten needy. And if Mickey had been thinking with his head rather than his dick, he'd have let Ian go to work on time. If he had, his dad would have never caught them.

"Dad! Dad, just wait! Dad!" Mickey yelled, trying to pull his boxers back on as Terry immediately went after Ian, yelling something about Mandy. "Dad!"

Mickey jumped on his back, trying to pull the man off Ian. That's all Mickey could think about; keep Terry's attention on him and off of Ian. Don't let Terry get Ian. He tried to fight his dad off, tried to push him far enough back so that Terry couldn't get him. But his dad landed punch after punch into the side of his head, screaming something Mickey couldn't understand. He only hoped Ian had already gone for the door.

Of course, being the stupid hero he was, Ian had hesitated. And then he'd gone for Mickey's room instead. Ian knew Mickey had a gone shoved in his mattress, but there was no way for him to get to it before Terry was pulling a gun on him.

"Sit your ass down, you fucking ass digger!" Terry yelled, and Mickey grunted, trying to get his dad's attention back on him. And he did until his dad brought the butt of the gun down on Mickey's head.

And that's how they found themselves four days after their first kiss waiting to die. Or at least that's what Mickey was sure was going to happen. Why his dad wasn't going to do it himself, he had no idea. But if he was going to die, at least he got to go out with Gallagher by his side.

When the prostitute walked in the door, Mickey had to admit he was surprised.

"That one," Terry said, pointing to Mickey on the couch. "She's going to fuck the faggot out of you, kid," he mumbled. "Ride him until he likes it. And you are God damn going to watch it."

Mickey couldn't take his eyes off of Ian's face. He couldn't look away as his face crumbled and how he bit into his fist to keep the sound from coming out. Mickey tried to convey how sorry he was to Ian, but everything hurt and all he could do was grimace as the girl slid onto his cock. He wasn't even hard.

This wasn't what Mickey had expected when Terry found them. He'd been ready to die; not have the decision ripped from his hands. This was the lowest he'd ever been and Ian was right there, watching him. He hoped Ian understood. He hoped the red head got that the only way they were going to get out of this alive was to play along. That Mickey had to like it. Had to make it seem real. And so when Ian finally looked away, he turned away from Ian, wrapped an arm around the girl and flipped them. 'Cause Mickey couldn't take knowing Ian was watching.

* * *

Later, once his dad had stumbled off drunk, Mickey escaped the house. He went to the rooftop where they'd set up the obstacle course and waited. He didn't drink. He didn't smoke. He just waited. A few times he could feel his body shake and his eyes sting as they welled up, but Mickey refused to cry. When it finally started to get dark, he heard the sound of footsteps on the latter, and looked up to see Ian approaching him slowly.

"Are you okay?" The red head asked, reaching out to touch Mickey's knee. Mickey flinched and Ian pulled his hand back like he'd been burnt. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Ian whispered, crawling next to Mickey, but keeping enough space between them so they weren't touching.

"You know why I did it, right?" Mickey asked, getting right to the point. Ian turned away, nodding. "I didn't fucking enjoy that, Ian. I didn't fucking want to. But I had to. You get that, right?" Ian nodded again, staring straight in front of them.

And that's when Mickey realized that this was what was going to hurt them the most. After everything; after multiple gunshot wounds, Frank and his abusive tendencies towards Ian, the other people, the stays in Juvie, Mickey's harsh words and their jealous tendencies. After all of that, this was what was going to tear them apart. This was what was going to drive a wedge between them so wide that Mickey wasn't sure they'd get it back. Go figure.

"What are you going to do now?" Ian asked after a long moment of silence.

"Sell some shit, get a place of my own," Mickey mumbled, not looking at Ian. "I can't go back to that house. I don't really know where I'll go 'til then."

"What…" Ian trailed off, looking down at his shaking hands. "What about us?" he finally mumbled and Mickey couldn't stop the flinch that ran through his entire body.

"I dunno. Guess we'll just have to see," he said, rubbing tiredly at a cut next to his eye. Ian was silent for a moment before reaching out and touching Mickey's leg. When Mickey didn't flinch he moved his hand up to Mickey's chin, tilting the older boy's face towards his.

"Yeah, I guess we will," Ian mumbled before gently crushing their lips together. Mickey didn't fight it. He was a dead man anyway, might as well enjoy it while he could. Even if things would never go back to how they were, at least his dad hadn't taken this from him.

And if he woke up the next day and Ian was gone? Well, it was really just a long time fucking coming, wasn't it?


End file.
